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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27785536">Chained Heat</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze'>TheseusInTheMaze</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Antagonistic Relationship, Biting, F/M, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omegaverse, Prison</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:09:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,002</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27785536</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The Doctor was always the first to admit that she tended to run away from her problems. It was a strategy that had served her well for her whole life, and who was she to argue with a winning formula?</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>	(Actually, it would be pretty in character to argue with a winning formula, now that she thought about it, but that was neither here nor there at this moment). </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>	When she'd presented as an Omega, she'd taken suppressants, the same way she had when she'd been an Alpha. She didn't have time for that sort of thing, and she'd get to it, eventually. It was, in its own way, another form of running away, but she wasn't overly concerned with that. There was always something else she needed to worry about.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>	And then she'd landed in prison.</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Chained Heat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm sorry. I couldn't resist the pun. There aren't any chains in this, but otherwise... well.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Doctor was always the first to admit that she tended to run away from her problems. It was a strategy that had served her well for her whole life, and who was she to argue with a winning formula?</p>
<p>	(Actually, it would be pretty in character to argue with a winning formula, now that she thought about it, but that was neither here nor there at this moment). </p>
<p>	When she'd presented as an Omega, she'd taken suppressants, the same way she had when she'd been an Alpha. She didn't have time for that sort of thing, and she'd get to it, eventually. It was, in its own way, another form of running away, but she wasn't overly concerned with that. There was always something else she needed to worry about.</p>
<p>	And then she'd landed in prison.</p>
<p>	It wasn't the first time she'd been in prison. Not even the first time she'd been landed in a Judoon prison, although the last time she'd been in prison, it had been about two thousand years in the future from now, when the Judoon had been a little less... crude in their cells. They'd also been a lot more exacting back then, although in retrospect maybe they'd been more exacting in memory of her escape?</p>
<p>	Or maybe she was thinking into it too deeply. They'd put her in her own cell this time, a small, cramped room with a view of the star fields outside and a bed that was only marginally softer than the floor. Said floor was five paces in all directions, and she paced a good deal as she tried to work out how to get out of here.</p>
<p>	She didn't have the TARDIS, which was part of the problem. It had been maybe three days, and she didn't have the TARDIS, didn't have her sonic, didn't have her Fam. It was just her, here on here lonesome, and <i>oh</i> but was it lonesome. Especially with... one thing and another.</p>
<p>	At first, she'd been able to ignore the growing discomfort building in the roots of her gut. The anxious, gnawing warmth, the restless energy that made her want to... what? Hide under the cot? Get into a fight with the skinny new Judoon recruit who brought her meals twice a day? </p>
<p>	Most of what she did was pace, and plan, and think about what she'd learned in the Matrix, and tried to puzzle out some of the great mysteries of the universe. She'd never been especially good at staying in one place for long periods of time, let alone one place where she wasn't offered any stimulation.</p>
<p>	There was a particularly <i>intense</i> throb below the belt at the thought of "stimulation," and then an image twinkled into focus, like someone adjusting a camera lens.</p>
<p>	<i>The Doctor on her back, legs spread wide open. The Master's hands on the pale skin of her inner thighs, the rasp of his stubble against her vulva, his hot, wet tongue against her clit</i>.</p>
<p>	The Doctor groaned, then covered her mouth to muffle the noise. Where had <i>that</i> come from?</p>
<p>	It wasn't that she was... disinterested in sex, per se. Her last body had been a Beta, and mostly indifferent to that sort of thing. And now this body was all... <i>interested</i>, in ways that she didn't know how to interpret. Not that there was much to interpret - almost every instinct she had was telling her she wanted to grind against something, wanted to spread her legs and be filled, and that wasn't exactly a <i>new</i> thing to do, per se, but it was in this shape. </p>
<p>	There was a rattle, and then her cell door was opening. The skinny new recruit came in, holding the familiar metal tray with a bowl of the Judoon's own nutrient slop, which was about as tasty as it sounded.</p>
<p>	"Hello, Rodney," the Doctor said, keeping her tone breezy. "I know your name ain't Rodney, but I always feel like you lot should have names what begin with "r", although then again, that might be profiling, wouldn't it? Wouldn't want to be the type what profiles." She shoved her hands in her prison jumpsuit, as the Judoon stared at her impassively. He was small, for a Judoon, so fairly large by human standards.</p>
<p>	When had she started judging sizes by human standards? </p>
<p>	"I still find it odd that so many governments let you lot run the prisons," the Doctor said, more to keep her mouth moving than because she had anything to say. She was so worked up that even the Judoon was starting to smell good, and that couldn't be a good sign. Even Captain Jack had never... actually, that wasn't a road she was going to go down. </p>
<p>	The Judoon - Rodney - kept staring at her. He was still holding the tray.</p>
<p>	"You're usually chattier than this," the Doctor said. "Got a bit of laryngitis? Never had that, although a friend of mine once wished it on me." </p>
<p>	The Judoon kept staring.</p>
<p>	It was honestly starting to give her the creeps. There was a scent in the room, a scent that was tantalizing in its familiarity, and in... something else. </p>
<p>	"Have we met?" The Doctor took a step closer, and she put her hands behind her head, lacing her fingers together. "I mean, obviously, you bring me my dinner every day, but somethin' about you feels familiar..."</p>
<p>	"Are you sure it isn't the dashing figure I cut?" The voice coming out of the Judoon's mouth was utterly unfamiliar, and didn't suit him at all. </p>
<p>	Actually, hold on.</p>
<p>	The Doctor paused, her whole face scrunching up as she tried to take in the scent. There was... hold on, almost...</p>
<p>	"Really," said the voice, and <i>oh</i>, she knew that voice. Oh no.</p>
<p>	The Judoon kicked the door closed behind him, and the tray was dropped carelessly on the floor.</p>
<p>	"Oi," the Doctor said, backing up the two steps that she could before she hit the bed, "that's my dinner, that is!" Not the thing to be outraged about, really, but between her over-excited hormones and the panic that was trying to claw its way out of her like a rat in a trap, she had to seize on <i>something</i>. </p>
<p>	"I'm sure we can find you something better to eat," said the familiar voice, and then the image of the Judoon was shimmering like mist, and... there was the Master. </p>
<p>	He looked beautiful, and she hated him for it. That purple waistcoat, the checkered trousers. His face was scruffy, his hair was floppy, and his eyes glittered with a malevolence that turned her stomach and made her weak in the knees. </p>
<p>	"Hello, love," he said, and he was smiling at her like something that lurked in the tall grass, all bright teeth. "Did you miss me?"</p>
<p>	"What are you doing here?" The Doctor took another step back from him, her hands shoved into her pockets, and she rocked on her heels. "Last I saw of you, you were still -"</p>
<p>	"Yes, yes," the Master said, and he was making a <i>get on with it</i> sort of hand motion. "Can we pretend that you gave your righteously indignant lecture, I said something cuttingly funny that utterly wounded you, and we're at the next part of this old dance we both know all the steps to." He moved closer to her, as if he wanted to loom. </p>
<p>	He might've gotten a good loom on, if he had <i>any</i> height on her. As it was, he was mostly just staring into her eyes, his nose almost touching hers. In a way, it was worse - there was an intensity, when they were almost the same size like this. </p>
<p>	<i>We were made to be a matched set</i>, gabbled some hysterical part of her brain, and she wrinkled her nose at the thought. Oh, but the <i>scent</i> of him, filling up the small room. It was making her head spin, her mouth open instinctively to take more of it in. </p>
<p>	"Don't know what you're talking about," she said stiffly, as if that were true. As if they <i>hadn't</i> been doing some variation of this for years and years, pulling each other hither and thither like a rope in a tug of war. </p>
<p>	"You're in heat," the Master said, and he was almost <i>purring</i> it, leaning in close enough that she could have counted his eyelashes if she wanted to. Maybe she did want to. It might make a good distraction, come to think of it, but anything would be a good distraction, up to and including chewing off her own leg. </p>
<p>	"That's neither here nor there," the Doctor said. "I'm sure I'll sort it out shortly."</p>
<p>	"I'll get you out of here," the Master said. "Doesn't do, to see someone as <i>high</i> as yourself amongst the common criminal scum." He sneered as he said it, and the sneer seemed to take up his whole face. It leeched some of the handsomeness out of it, at least. </p>
<p>	"I'll get out on my own, thank you," the Doctor said. She crossed her arms, or tried to. He was close enough to her that she mostly just ended up elbowing him in the chest, which she did take a petty satisfaction in. The spots where their bodies were touching made her skin <i>sing</i>, and she was so desperate for any kind of touch that she almost leaned into it. </p>
<p>	Almost.</p>
<p>	"You're broadcasting," the Master said. "I followed your trail straight to you. There are whole galaxies that know you're a needy slut who just wants to get knotted."</p>
<p>	The Doctor bared her teeth at him, and she shoved him in the chest.</p>
<p>	Instead of resisting her, he let himself be shoved, landing on the bed with a wheeze of ancient springs. The whole thing sagged, and he stared up at her, still smirking.</p>
<p>	"You always did like it on top," he said, his hands behind his head. "I suppose I can be a good, accommodating Alpha. Just this once." He was still smirking, not even ashamed of the bulge in his trousers. "That's what you need, isn't it?" </p>
<p>	"Go <i>away</i>," the Doctor snapped, and her clit pulsed at her like a star as she raked her hands through her hair. "I don't need you. I don't need anyone!" </p>
<p>	The Master was standing up again, and it was another two steps to press her into the wall, one hand in her hair, forcing her head back. The metal of the wall was very cold against her back, and her prison boiler suit was sticking to her back with sweat.  </p>
<p>	“Is this what you’d prefer?” His voice was closer to a growl now, and his hand was around her throat, squeezing. “We <i>could</i> do this like civilized beings, since we’re above all of the rabble, but <i>you</i> won’t cooperate.”</p>
<p>	“I’ll never cooperate with you,” she snapped. “Leave me alone.” This was part of the dance, wasn’t it? He chased, she ran, she chased, he ran. On and on and on, circles upon circles, the way they’d always done. </p>
<p>	“Fine,” said the Master, and he stepped away from her. Full on stepped away, and flopped onto her bed, his feet dangling off the edge and his hands behind his head once again. “You’re the boss.”</p>
<p>	The Doctor blinked at him, her head spinning. “What?” The desperate, aching pulse between her legs had gotten worse. </p>
<p>	"You said no," the Master said. "Who am I to ignore your request?" He stared up at the ceiling of her cell as if it were the most riveting book he'd ever read, and she could practically <i>hear</i> him listening for her response.</p>
<p>	"If you're gonna just lie there, please go away," the Doctor said, and she scrubbed at her face with both hands. His scent was filling the space, and it seemed to be making her heat worse. Had it been this way, being an Alpha around an Omega when she was in rut?</p>
<p>	An old memory surfaced, of when she was an Alpha and wore skinny suits and red trainers, and <i>that</i> was another jolt of arousal, filling her up like water in a glass. She bit her lip, and she caught his smirk. </p>
<p>	"Free country," the Master said, his tone irritatingly jovial. "As it were. Not so much in this case."</p>
<p>	"This is still my space," she said, and her lips were drawing back from her teeth in a snarl. She wanted... What did she want? To masturbate, to climb on top of him, to rip his throat out with her teeth, to cry until she dried out from the inside.</p>
<p>	She could use some drying out, judging by the stickiness between her thighs. It was probably soaking into the boiler suit, come to think of it, and <i>oh</i> she did <i>not</i> want to think of it.</p>
<p>	She did want to come, though. </p>
<p>	Fuck.</p>
<p>	"Master," she said, and she was speaking against her better judgement. "Please leave."</p>
<p>	"Not going to happen," he said, in a tone that could be described as <i>breezy</i>, and that wasn't a way she wanted to describe anyone, really.</p>
<p>	"Why not?" She leaned back against the wall and shoved her hands in her pockets, trying not to think about just how close to her cunt her fingers were. </p>
<p>	"Because," said the Master, "I don't want to." He sat up, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his palm. "Why should I? Seems like a cozy enough place."</p>
<p>	"After all that time you spent in the Vault," the Doctor began.</p>
<p>	"Excuse you, all that time you <i>kept me</i> in the Vault," the Master interrupted. </p>
<p>	The Doctor snorted. "You did agree to it," she pointed out.</p>
<p>	"After you rescued me from being executed," he said airily. "Maybe I'm nostalgic for the days when you still saw the good in me."</p>
<p>	She snorted, but didn't have an answer to that. She was too tired, too horny, too sick in the heart and sick to her stomach. She lay flat on the floor and stared at the ceiling, lacking anything better to do, and she did quadratic equations until she could taste the theories on the tip of her tongue. </p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p>	It was three chimes of the hourly bell before she broke. </p>
<p>	Part of it was his scent. It seemed to fill the whole space, thick and heavy, settling on the back of her throat like pollen. The desperate ache of her heat seemed to get stronger with every inhalation of it, and she could hear him chuckling about it occasionally, which put her teeth on edge. And part of it was the company - she didn't remember the last time she'd had any kind of company. </p>
<p>	She'd never been one for much in the way of physical contact. Her last body had been fairly hands off, and she'd been too busy to test the limits of the new body, what with one thing and another. But her skin was hungry for any kind of contact, and she wanted to have him draped cross her, feel the warmth of his body, feel the hardness of his -</p>
<p>	"Get out of my mind," the Doctor snapped, getting up on her elbows to glare at him on her bed.</p>
<p>	"I'm not <i>in</i> your mind," he said, looking sidelong at her. "You've finally learned to put a proper shield up, I see. Only took you a couple thousand years."</p>
<p>	"You're putting things in my head," she said, and her voice was thick. She was so wet, slick trickling out of her like a leaking faucet. Which was <i>not</i> an appealing image, but none of this was appealing, was it?</p>
<p>	"I'm not," said the Master. "I was <i>trying</i> to catch up on some rest. It's surprisingly restful, being in prison like this."</p>
<p>	The Doctor bared her teeth at him. </p>
<p>	He smiled at her, all eye teeth and malevolence. "Are you overtaken, love?" He sat up, placing his feet flat on the ground, and the toes of his shoes were millimeters from her thigh. </p>
<p>	"Shut up," she snapped. "Just... do it." Her whole face was turning as red as the horrible prison clothes.</p>
<p>	"Sorry, what was that?" His voice was so <i>pleasant</i>. </p>
<p>	She glared up at him, and in the background, another chime went off. The lights dimmed - must be getting close to bedtime. "I said," she said, and her voice went rough, as she tried to speak around the thickness in her throat, "to just do it." She got up on her knees, so that their faces were more level, but the height difference was still... uncomfortable. </p>
<p>	"Wasn't that an Earth slogan at some point?" His tone was idle. </p>
<p>	She glared up at him through her fringe, and he raised an eyebrow. </p>
<p>	"I had to kill three people to get you in this position, last time," the Master said, and his voice was so smug that it made her want to rip his throat out. She bared her teeth at him, and he laughed. It was such an <i>amicable</i> laugh, and that made it worse, somehow. </p>
<p>	This version reeked of madness, like he sweated it out of his pores, but he could also come off as so friendly, and it wasn't fair.</p>
<p>	Although had anything in her life ever been fair?</p>
<p>	"I know you want it," the Doctor said, and she kept her eyes on her lap. "Let's just get it over with."</p>
<p>	"That's hardly something I'd want to hear from someone who wanted any kind of <i>intimacy</i> with me," the Master said, and his voice took on a singsong tone. "Don't you want me to treat you like one of your -"</p>
<p>	"Master," the Doctor said, and there was want in her voice, a want that made her skin crawl. "Please."</p>
<p>	He looked down at her, and he was frowning. "That doesn't sound like you want it very much," he scolded. "Are you sure?"</p>
<p>	"I'm sure," she said, and she looked up into his face, meeting his gaze with her own.</p>
<p>	The Master hissed through his teeth, and his eyes went wide. He forced himself forward (awkwardly, his stomach pressing into the tops of his thighs), and he took her face in his hands and kissed her. </p>
<p>	His mouth was hot and wet, alien in its familiarity. She kissed him back, and then she bit him, which made him moan into her mouth,  his hands moving from her face to her shoulders and pulling her upright and against him. </p>
<p>	She fumbled at the buttons of his waistcoat, then the buttons of his shirt. She needed to feel his bare skin against her own, his hearts thudding against the cage of his ribs. She tugged at his chest hair, and he hissed against her  mouth, fumbling for the zipper, pulling it down and shoving the horrible red fabric down her arms and back. </p>
<p>	She shuddered when his hands skated across her overheated sides, slippery with sweat and flushed from her heat. His mouth was on her neck now, and her hips were grinding forward. She was going to come like this, clutching at his hair, still in her trousers. </p>
<p>	He bit down especially hard on her shoulder, and she snarled at him, some half remembered instinct welling up.</p>
<p>	He snarled back, and bit her again, harder. Her shoulder was wet with his spit, and she raked her nails across his chest where she could reach it in some kind of retaliation. </p>
<p>	There was more finagling, and then... she was on her back. She was on her back, and he was on top of her, rutting against her. His forehead was against hers, and when she opened her eyes, she found him looking at her, slightly cross-eyed. </p>
<p>	"I'm going to fill you up," he panted, right against her mouth, and he nipped her lip, his teeth just a touch too sharp. </p>
<p>	She didn't have an answer to that one. She dug her knees into his sides, and she tried to wriggle out of the boiler suit, which was hard to do when she was pinned down by his weight. Her slick had already leaked through the cheap red fabric, and she was starting to get abraded around the thighs. </p>
<p>	"Look at you," said the Master, and he sounded so smug that something in her head just <i>broke</i>. Or maybe it didn't break, and she was losing whatever inhibitions she had in the first place. She sank her teeth into the meat of his cheek, and the howl that pulled out of him sent another bolt of desperation between her legs. She rasped her tongue along his stubble, and he shoved her back onto the pillow, sitting up. With his shirt and his waistcoat open and his coat trailing behind him, he looked almost like he was wearing some great cape. </p>
<p>	"You bit my <i>face</i>," the Master sputtered, and he sounded offended and nonplussed. </p>
<p>	It was her turn to smile at him with all her teeth, and he snarled, grabbing her by the shoulders and roughly flipping her over. He shoved her face into the pillow, his hand tangled in her hair, and she wriggled under him. One of the buttons of his waistcoat pressed into her back, and she growled again, as he sat up and the cold air hit her bare, sweaty back.</p>
<p>	There was rustling, and then the fabric of the boiler suit was shoved further down her legs. The fabric of his trousers was itchy against her bare legs, sticking to the sweaty skin, and the damp head of his cock was prodding against her arse.</p>
<p>	“Ask me for it,” he said, as his knees forced her thighs open. The wet, sticky head of his cock skidded along the crack of her arse, the small of her back. He was looming over her properly now, and she hissed, pressing her backside against him. </p>
<p>	“Do it,” she said into the pillow. “Do it, now.”</p>
<p>	His hand in her hair, wrapping it around his fist and forcing her head back, her neck at an odd angle. She gasped at the pressure, and the head of his cock was pressing against the entrance to her cunt. The muscles were already trying to pull him in, more wetness gushing out of her, thick and sticky. “That’s not asking,” he growled, and there was the whisper of the edges of his shirt, right across her back. He was still wearing it, then. He’d be a sweaty mess by the end of this.</p>
<p>	“Do it, please,” she said, which was still nicer than she wanted to be, but <i>oh</i>, she was so close, it was almost… </p>
<p>	He shoved it into her, one savage push, and the hand in her hair forced her head forward, right into the pillow. It was bigger than his last cock, unless you counted Missy’s last strap on, in which case he was a good deal smaller. He pulsed inside of her, and she pulsed back, like the two were sending messages in some unknown language. </p>
<p>	“Fuck,” the Master growled, and he was plastered across her back, his knees digging into the mattress and his face shoved into her neck. His teeth sank into her neck, harder this time, and she howled into the thin prison pillow. </p>
<p>	<i>We’re proper buggered if the Judoon come ‘round</i>, the Doctor thought deliriously, and she humped back against the Master, as he fucked her like he hated her and like he loved her, like he was trying to shove all that history back into her and get her back on his side.</p>
<p>	She wanted to be on her back, to see his face. She wanted him to touch every part of her. She wanted to never see him ever again, wanted to be in a box with a hole so he could shove it in and she didn’t think about it. She wanted so many things, all at the same time, and her body just took and took what was being given, greedily sucking him inside of her, clenching and pulsing faithfully. Her clit was rubbing against the bedsheets, and he was stimulating her clit from the inside as well, something rubbing against something delicate inside of her.</p>
<p>	She hadn’t done much exploring of her body, beyond the perfunctory rummage around. But this was so much more, as she opened for him, his heavy, sweaty weight pinning her to the bed as his hips pounded into her. </p>
<p>	She came three times in succession, one after the other, racing up and down her nerves like a line of matches. She was sobbing, hair sticking to her face, drool and sweat and tears soaking into her pillow. She dug her fingers into the mattress, as he let go of her hair to bite her bare shoulder, and she reached around awkwardly, finding whatever she could to dig her nails in.</p>
<p>	Time lost all meaning, and that was always what made a Time Lord’s heat or rut so dangerous; they always had good time sense, and having it stripped away in the heat of the moment was a bit like losing one’s sight in the middle of a dance. But the Doctor couldn't find it in her to care, because he was getting thick around the base of his cock.</p>
<p>	He was as desperate for it as she was now, and there was a comfort in that, and a danger. The Master was a lit fuse at the best of times, and now she was giving him full permission to go off at will. </p>
<p>	<i>I’m helping him go off, as it were</i>, giggled some part of her mind that didn’t seem to be paying attention to everything else. She dug her teeth into her own arm to keep from whining when he pulled out, and she groaned as she was hauled onto her back again. </p>
<p>	“I want to be staring into your eyes when you take my knot,” he told her, and he was holding himself up by one arm as he pushed himself back inside of her. He stared into her face, his eyes wide, and she fancied she could see the fires burning in the very backs of them. </p>
<p>	His knot was thick, thicker than anything she’d ever had inside of her. He grunted when he nudged it against the entrance of her cunt, and he held on tightly to her thighs, tight enough to dimple the flesh, to bruise. Her breasts and belly were jiggling as he began to thrust, shallowly, pushing a bit of the knot in, then pulled back. </p>
<p>	“I’m gonna fill you up,” he said, and the bite mark stood out on his face, as stark as a brand. Her heels were digging into his calves, and she took some satisfaction in knowing he’d have those bruises to match it, and then he groaned in the back of his throat, and shoved his hips forward, forcing the whole thing inside of her. </p>
<p>	The Doctor howled again, and she grabbed at his shoulders, under his shirt. She dug her nails in and raked them down, her hips pushing forward, and she clenched around the thick thing inside of her. “Mine were b-b-bigger,” she stuttered out, mostly to see his eyes narrow. </p>
<p>	He growled, and then he might have been about to say something, but his knot brushed against something sensitive inside of her that made her erupt into another orgasm, this one… bigger. Her cunt clamped down around him, and it was like a fist clenching. She came and came, and then there was a wash of warmth inside of her, and his face took on the familiar gut shot look he always wore when he came. </p>
<p>	<i>The same face, despite all the ways it changes</i>, the Doctor mused distantly. She was floating a little to the left of her body, as more pleasure danced across her nerves, wringing her out like a dishcloth. An exhaustion more sudden than a hit to the head washed over her, and she blinked sleepily at the Master, </p>
<p>	His hair was pasted down to his forehead, except for the spots where it was standing on end, and his eyes were dark and wild. He was trembling, and when he bent down to press a kiss to her forehead, it was… gentle. The way the knot moved inside of her wasn’t, though, and she hissed, clamped down. </p>
<p>	He groaned, and ended up lying on the bed next to her, his leg slotted between hers. He pressed his forehead against hers, and she took in a whiff of his scent, comforted in spite of herself. Half of her instincts were shouting at her to curl up against him and go to sleep, until the knot softened and they could go again. The other half (the half that remembered who even <i>knew</i> how many schemes and plots) wanted to get away as quickly as possible. </p>
<p>	“I’m not going anywhere,” he said roughly, as he pulled her a little closer, and she let him, the bites on her shoulders and neck beginning to throb in time with her cunt. She was going to be as purple as his coat by the end of this.</p>
<p>	“Be a bit hard to,” she said sleepily, giving his cock a squeeze with her internal muscles.</p>
<p>	He groaned, and more come spurted into her. It would be a waterfall, when he pulled out. </p>
<p>	“I’ll still help you get out, y’know,” he said, and his voice had a soft, persuasive note to it she wanted to listen to, wanted to follow off into the woods. </p>
<p>	“I’ll talk about it later,” she said firmly, and she yawned. Falling asleep in his presence was probably a horrible idea, but… it wasn’t as if she could run away, tied to him like this. </p>
<p>	And the thickness between her legs was nice, as was the warm body pressed against her own. Better than anything else she’d had since coming to this place. And she’d deal with… everything else at some point. </p>
<p>	Later.</p>
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